


caught a glimpse of the last time around

by voodoochild



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Image, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Selves, Multiverse, Self-Esteem Issues, Shower Sex, Time Travel, Topping from the Bottom, innocence kink, semi kayfabe compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 10:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: There is a chubby kid in a Stone Cold shirt wandering around backstage, and ironically, Kevin Owens is not the one who figures out that said kid isn’t a misplaced fan. Because someone's messing around with time-travel and the kid is Kevin Steen.





	caught a glimpse of the last time around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonsault](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/gifts).



> Title from Vienna Teng's "In Another Life". Much love to you, Mith, for the idea of younger!Kevin meeting his future self and future Sami, and to E1 for the beta (even though she doesn't know the fandom, she looooooves the trope). As ever, Sansese brings the French help.
> 
> This takes place just after Wrestlemania 34, and just before the 2018 European Tour where Sami's injuries became apparent. Our time-traveling bb!Kev is from 2007, making him 23ish and not underage, just still babyfaced.

There is a chubby kid in a Stone Cold shirt wandering around backstage, and ironically, Kevin is not the one who figures out that said kid isn’t a misplaced fan.

“What the fuck?” Sami breathes, soft and a little wondering, and reaches out a hand to stop Kevin from moving. They’re standing by one of the lighting rigs, shadowed from view, and Sami’s voice comes out at a whisper. “Kevin, have you seen Bray around?”

“Why the fuck would I care what that hillbilly does?”

“What about the New Day? Specifically their time machine.”

Kevin laughs, shakes his head. “Dude, that’s just a gimmick-”

“It’s really not.” Sami’s tone is certain. “Seth was … nevermind. I know it works, it works like that weird fucking look in Kane’s eyes, how it gets cold around the Undertaker, how Finn is Finn and also an actual demon. And I’m telling you that someone’s fucking around with time travel.”

“And you know this because?”

Sami curls a hand in Kevin’s hair and tugs his head toward the kid. “Because that’s  _ you _ .”

No, it’s not. Right?

His hair doesn’t even look like that. He never wore white cargo shorts. It can’t be him.

That’s a stupid assumption to make. Time travel. A younger version of himself. No way. It’s just some fan who got past security. Right?

Then the kid reaches up to scratch the back of his head, his nose crinkling in confusion as he looks around at the equipment trucks and maze of cables that make up a WWE event parking garage. Kevin feels his heart stutter - knows that unconscious motion well, knows when and why he does it himself - and he swears fairly thoroughly under his breath.

It’s him.

“Shit. What do we do?” he asks instead. “We can’t just leave him-”

Sami takes a deep breath. “Who are you less likely to freak out at? Meeting an older version of me, or meeting an older version of yourself?”

“Me.” It’s not even a question. The younger version of him looks maybe 22? 24? It doesn't matter. Kevin knows for absolutely certain that if he’d set eyes on this older, even more incredibly gorgeous version of Sami, he’d be a wreck. “I’ll grab him and take him back to our dressing room. You check if Bray or the New Day or anyone weird is around, see what you can find out, then text me.”

“Yeah, okay.” 

Sami looks like he wants to argue, but it’s a good plan. He claps Kevin on the shoulder before slipping down the nearby hallway.

And now he’s got to figure out this whole younger-version-of-himself situation, which he starts by walking up beside the kid and hooking an arm around his neck. Immediately steers them toward the corridor that leads to the locker rooms, and keeps his voice friendly-yet-firm.

“So, here’s the deal, you are really not supposed to be here, and according to weird Star Trek rules, we could potentially break the universe. We’re going to hide in one of the locker rooms so we don’t do that. How the fuck did you even get here?”

Kevin locks eyes with an identical pair - smaller snub nose and longer hair and scragglier beard, why the hell hadn’t someone told him to trim it? - and the kid (okay, he’s just going to call him Kev) lets out an impressive string of  _ sacres _ .

“... are you… you’re me. I know you’re me. How much older me are we talking?”

How much information does he give himself? Doesn’t the universe implode if the butterfly flaps its wings? Or is that if you step on the butterfly? Who’d step on a butterfly? That’s just mean.

He keeps walking, steers Kev past the makeup girls and around two of the writers being chewed out by Michael Cole. “Thirty-three.”

Kev laughs, all-nerves, and Kevin wonders if he really is that painfully obvious. “We’re still hanging around outside WWE shows in eleven years?” They round the corner, and Kev’s still blustering. “Kinda pathetic, if they’re never gonna sign - oh. Motherfucker.”

He’s just seen his own face on the event poster. Oh, sure, it says “Kevin Owens” and there are other people whose faces Kev should know (Seth, Bryan, Sami, not to mention the NXT poster that has half the indy-circuit on it), but Kevin can understand the sheer dumbfounded disbelief the kid’s experiencing.

“Not hanging around, buddy. Main-eventing. Me vs. Roman tonight, and I’ve got a tag tomorrow against him and Tyler. He goes by Seth now. Still a fucking nerd, in case you were wondering.”

Kev is still standing mid-hallway, and Kevin panics slightly as he hears a familiar bellow at the end of the hall. Grabs Kev and swings him around, starts dragging him past Vincent Kennedy McMahon Jr, who is luckily more interested in Monday’s script than Kevin and a random kid. 

“Owens.”

“Vince.”

“Everything all right?”

“Oh yeah, this is my cousin Todd. I’m showing him around before the show. Just gonna let him get a quick look at gorilla and then I’ll drop him back with security.”

Gruff handwave. “Yeah, good. Great. Goddamnit. This fucking promo. You seen Lashley?”

“Try catering!” he says, shrugging and casually turns the corner.

Thank everything, the next door is his and Sami’s dressing room - “Owens and Zayn” sign taped to it - and he yanks it open enough to shove Kev inside. He pulls the door closed and turns to find the kid staring at him, mouth agape.

“That was Vince McMahon.”

“Yep.”

“You just brushed off Vince McMahon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“You told him I was Todd.”

“I did.”

“I don’t look anything like Todd.”

Kevin sighs and shoves Sami’s suitcase over before dropping onto the couch. “He doesn’t know that. He gets really pissy when supernatural shit happens, it’s easier for him to dismiss you than say ‘hey Vince, my 23 year old self has time-traveled, don’t spoil Flair-Michaels before I have the chance to mark the fuck out’.”

Kev blinks, stunned. “We’re gonna see Flair-Michaels? I mean, that’s clearly what they’re building to, but we’re going to be there, we just bought Wrestlemania tickets. Please tell me it was worth it.”

Scrimping and saving every paycheck that didn’t immediately have to go toward rent, food, hotel rooms, car rentals, and bills? Quadding up with Sami and Jimmy and Tyler in a single bedroom, praying they wouldn’t get bedbugs from the floor? Ten hour drives home just to pass out for a day, see his parents, and then get back in the car because he had to make the next show and get paid?

“Every fucking bit of it. You’re gonna lose your mind.”

The kid laughs, bitter and amazed, staggers sideways a bit like he’s just taken an enzuigiri. “I think I already have. Vince McMahon knows me. I’m apparently working for WWE. I’m going to see Shawn Michaels wrestle at Wrestlemania. None of this shit seems real.”

It’s so surreal for him; he can’t imagine what his younger self is experiencing. He at least remembers all of this, remembers being that young and uncertain and grinding on the indies. He has the certainty of four years with WWE, of winter houses in Florida and summers back in Montreal. Has the experience of clean, spacious hotel rooms and a bank account that hasn’t been overdrawn in years.

He lets his younger self get a grip, lets him wander over to the bathroom to splash water on his face, pace a little in the small locker room. He knows his own need to get the nerves out of his system.

“Main-eventing, huh?” Kev asks, picking through Kevin’s open suitcase. Picks up a KO shirt, then runs his fingers over Kevin’s kick-pads. Pokes at one of Sami’s protein bars. “And tag-teaming? Christ, you’ve got it all.”

“You’ll get it.”

“Maybe I will. Maybe this is a dream and I won’t. Here’s a test -are you married?”

What? Sure, it’s legal in Canada now, not in every state, and they spend so much time in the States they’ve basically got to consider themselves Americans. But really, what the hell would he need to marry Sami for, they’re as good as married already.

“I’m curious, what would that prove?”

“That we’re not a complete idiot. That we didn’t - I don’t know, completely fuck up our life so badly.”

Kevin remembers being twenty-three. He remembers just how rough that year was to get through, how little sleep he got, how many fights he and his parents had, how many fights he and Sami had . . . yeah, okay. Maybe his younger self is right to be surprised.

“We fuck up. Dude, we’re us. We live on the road with a bunch of overgrown toddlers and sometimes we forget to do shit and sometimes we forget to communicate like normal humans, but we don’t do so bad. I’m 33. I have two houses, a pretty amazing job, and the ability to go to Disney World whenever I want.”

His younger self squints at him. "That's not an answer."

"Because I’m not married. So I'm trying to figure out why you seem to think we should be." Kev looks wounded and shocked and wide-eyed, every bit of his age. Kevin doesn't want to remember what that felt like. "I mean, when the hell would I have had the time? I'm on the road constantly, and unless whoever I married was totally cool with Sami being around 24/7, it wouldn’t work. Anyway, Sami and I are basically husbands, we have been forever."

Younger him’s lower lip wibbles as he makes a sharp keening sound. He tries to get the words out at least three times. Kevin’s about to ask him what the hell he’s freaking out about when Kev’s voice finally comes out, low and shuddering.

“Sami? He doesn’t leave us behind?”

He has to look away from his own deepest certainty, spoken aloud. For as long as Kevin has known Sami, he’s known two things: he was in love with Sami and one day, Sami’s career would skyrocket past him. It was truth, inevitable.

(Sometimes he still thinks it.)

He can’t warn his younger self about the hard times. Can’t tell himself not to trust Jim Cornette or he’ll sit at home for six months while Sami’s misused and jobbed out. Can’t tell himself that WWE calls Sami a year and a half before him, and he’ll spend that entire time absolutely certain he’ll never wrestle Sami again. Can’t caution himself about the weight gains or the depression, about the spiraling fear that he’s wasted his entire life. 

“No.” It’s as reassuring as he can get away with. He’d never accept it, even from himself. “He’s here. I’m tagging with him tomorrow. He has an Intercontinental title shot tonight. You’re, uh, you’re leaning against his locker. We still room together. We still drive together, even though he still yowls along to his iPod like a dying cat and won't listen to a GPS.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t lie to myself about him. Open the locker. His gear’s in there.”

Shaking, Kev pushes the door open, and Kevin knows that the first thing that greets him are Sami’s black-and-white boots. No one wears boots like those. Kev touches Sami’s hoodie, the little figure of him on the back, his brickwork tights with  _ no pasaran _ on them. Eyes the reusable water bottle, fanny pack, copy of the David Foster Wallace novel Sami’s rereading.

“He’s still a fucking nerd.”

Kevin laughs. “He’s vegan now. Now he gets to be superior about music, books,  _ and  _ food.”

There are so many questions Kevin knows his younger self wants to ask, and he probably can’t answer any of them. His phone goes off, and it’s a message from Sami.

_ It wasn’t New Day. Wasn’t Bray either. I talked to Braun - he says it has to have been someone from the past. Are you both okay? _

Kev is looking curiously at him, and Kevin isn’t sure if his younger self can handle seeing Sami. Current Sami, who is so assured of himself and such an absolute genius that Kevin still wonders what Sami’s doing with someone like him. 

_ Yeah. You’re gonna freak him out, but I think he needs to talk to you. Come back. _

"Is that a _phone_?" Kev asks, voice squeaking a little.

Oops. Better put away the space-age tech before younger-him's brain explodes.

***

Talking to Braun was terrifying; Sami’s hands are still shaking and he’d ducked away before the big man could take a swing at him for “meddling”. He wasn’t! He was trying to help out the 23 year old version of Kevin who had been thrown into a future that must be frightening. Kevin at 23 was still vulnerable and prone to getting stuck in his own head. For Kevin, he could skulk around backstage and look for Bray Wyatt and negotiate with Braun Strowman.

It would have been easier to find Roman - the handpicked heir to the Undertaker, didn’t even need his weird-shit-o-meter to control people like Bray and Braun and Finn and whatever Matt was. Sami could have found Seth and Roman, asked them to tell him about time travel and what the rules were, and they wouldn’t have been nearly as scary as Braun.

“Whoever it is,” Braun had warned, “don’t let them speak to more than two people.”

“Why not?” he’d asked, but Braun had growled at him. Like, actually growled. 

“It’s. A. Rule. One is a dream. Two is deja vu. Three will bind the person, and they may never return.”

Sami had tried to ask how they might be able to send Kev back to the time he was from (wouldn’t younger-Sami be missing him? What if he’d gone missing in front of his family?), but Braun had done that weird breathing thing at him and stalked off. He’d tried to find Bray, but not even Matt had seen him. 

He walks through the backstage area, and just before he reaches his and Kevin’s dressing room, he catches sight of Seth and Finn. He doesn’t want to chance them seeing the younger Kevin, he’s not in the mood to talk, and rather than give Kevin a head’s up, he knocks quickly on the door and ducks inside.

Both Kevins have the same expression - surprise, with a touch of fear. 

“Hey sorry,” he says, holding up his hands. “I know, I should’ve knocked, but I was trying not to run into Seth and Finn, and Braun freaked me out so I wasn’t thinking, and did you know Bray’s been gone for nearly a week, Matt hasn’t seen him, so he couldn’t help-”

“Breathe,” Kevin says - his Kevin, the one that’s from here and now, “and okay, no, I didn’t know about Bray. I only care about that swamp freak because someone’s fucking around with time travel. You think he got sent back to the past?”

Sami bursts into nervous giggles. “Oh god, could you imagine Bray and - oh. Oh shit. I think I know who from the past sent you here. I bet it was Jimmy.”

“Jimmy? He was a weirdo and a pervert, not an actual wizard. And he's fine now. How could he do this?”

“I dunno, there was a while when he was really getting into some heavy shit. 161?”

The younger Kevin just looks equal parts shocked and confused, but the older Kevin’s eyes widen. “You think it was him?”

“Maybe.” Sami crosses the room, grabs for his water bottle from his locker and younger-Kevin, who has been leaning against the door of the locker trying not to fidget, startles. Like Sami’s going to burn him. “Kev?” he asks the younger one, figuring it’s best to use his nickname, “ _ ne t’en fais pas. Ca va aller _ _.” _

_ “Tu sembles bizarre _ .” Irony of ironies, it’s Kev’s voice that is odd, so high and soft; Sami forgets Kevin ever sounded like that. “ _ Pas different, mais… je ne sais pas.” _

“Yeah, I probably do. Can you… what were you doing before you got here? Maybe if we can figure more out, we can get you back.”

Kev startles again, painfully anxious the way he was back then. He looks over at his older self (a very familiar, patient look on Kevin’s face) and looks away. Digs his toe into the floor and mumbles “just sitting around before the show.”

Sami rolls his eyes. “Which show? We were all over the place in what, ‘07?”

“Raleigh.”

“Oh, Ring of Honor,” Sami says. “Okay, so we were teaming, and we were sitting around- well, you and younger-me… And?”

“And nothing.”

Sami very seriously doubts it was nothing, if Kev is being so cagey. 

“You're sure you weren't doing anything?” Kevin asks, surprising Sami with how stern his tone is. Other-Kev looks just as startled by it, and shakes his head, looking at the floor.

They're interrupted by a pounding on the door- “OWENS! PROMO WITH ROMAN IN 5!” - and Sami meets Kevin's eyes. They're agreed, they have to keep the younger Kevin in the dressing room and away from others. Even if neither of them thinks leaving Sami with him is a great idea, the younger Kevin being nervous-and-okay is better than being calm-and-in-danger.

Kevin turns to his younger self. “Stay here with Sami. It's gonna be a while, Larry's writing for me and Roman and he sucks. If it were Jimmy, we'd be in and out.”

He grabs the script from the side pocket of his bag and heads through the door. Sami, meanwhile, thinks he has figured out why Kev is so uncomfortable about his own time. 

“Raleigh?” Sami says quietly, and Kev's head snaps up. “Was this the time you kissed me and I ran off, or was it the time I walked in on you in the shower?”

Kev goes pale. “No, what're you talking about?”

Sami has known Kevin for about fifteen years, and his bluster hasn't worked for the last ten. Kev has just come from Raleigh, in either 2007 (the shower) or 2009 (the kiss). Both instances where Sami regrets being an idiot with how his younger self handled it.

He steps a little closer, can see how Kev's breath catches. “You're from 2007, right? You didn't look surprised when I mentioned the shower, but the kiss surprised you, so you can't be from 2009.”

Kev licks his lips nervously; a gesture he hasn't done in a long time. Sami feels his heart melt for the uncertainty of it, and takes a few steps closer. He knows Kevin, inside and out, and there are probably rules about this sort of thing, but he doesn't care.

“Do you wanna know what I know about the shower?” Leans in, using every bit of his inch and a half of height on Kev, teasing him with the deliberate distance he keeps. “You told me -  _ my  _ Kevin told me - what he wanted that day. How you dreamed about me kissing you, dropping to my knees and blowing you because I couldn't wait.”

“It's a fucking lie,” Kev whispers, but he's still leaning into Sami's body heat, almost dazed with it. The flush that's spread across his cheeks and nose is another sign: he's incredibly turned on and ashamed of it. Sami misses when Kevin would blush for every sexual innuendo and comment, it was so sweet and naive of him. “Stop being a jerk, Sami.”

“You think I'm ribbing you?” 

“You - You don't want me. You made it clear and I don't blame you for not wanting to fuck a fat loser, but-”

Sami sees red, and that’s really the only excuse he has for what he does next. He steps right into the younger Kevin's personal space, backs him against the locker and lets him feel Sami’s dick, just as hard and throbbing as his own. He slides his hand into Kev’s hair, soft and bristling, and can’t help but quirk a smile as Kev gasps and tries to jerk away.

“You think I don't want to fuck you?  _ Tabarnak, mon calinours,  _ I forgot how fucking stupid we were. You can feel it, how bad I want you. How bad I fucking always want you.” 

Kev's breathing sharp and shocked against Sami’s cheek, and he whimpers for the drag and rut of Sami’s cock. “That’s a lie-”

“I don’t lie to you. Always, Kevin, even now. This morning. We were late for an interview because you wouldn't stop grinding on me in your sleep. Moaning against my shoulder because you were so hot for it.” Sami hadn’t wanted to leave the hotel room, reached over and turned off the alarm in favor of staying in bed. He groans a little for the memory, and Kev gasps for the sound. Shocked and turned-on, and Sami can’t help but kiss at Kev’s ear, whisper against it. “I fucking love having you like that, how slow and messy it is. I put you on your back, held your arms down, and I rubbed my dick against your ass and thighs. You begged me to let you come, but I made you wait.”

Kev shudders against him, fingers clinging to Sami's back. “How-how did you-?”

“I know you,  _ cheri _ . I know exactly how sweet and submissive you are, how badly you need it and how terrified you are of asking for it.” 

"No, but  _ how? _ When did-" Kev loses his words in a sharp jerk of his hips. "When did we…?"

Sami lightly mouths at Kev's neck, the scent of him boy-sharp. He smells like sweat and that cheap shampoo they used to buy in gas stations, like a bittersweet reminder of wasted time and fear.

"Not until a few years in your future," Sami finally says. He pulls back to look at Kev. "It got… fuck, sweetheart, it was bad. I can't tell you how or why, but we both needed it. We spent a whole day in bed, just talking everything out, everything we needed and wanted and kept secret. You, oh, you asked for it so sweet, asked me to tell you what to do, to not let you back out or run. You like your limits being pushed, you fucking love it."

God, Kev is sinking so perfect for him, eyes wide and mouth open. Tiny delicate little shivers running through him. Sami’s forgotten how overwhelmed Kevin got at the beginning. This is… oh, this is going to be fun.

Sami glances up at the clock - ten minutes, promo shooting won’t run longer than that - and makes his decision about what he can get away with. He wants hours to tease and touch and play with the younger Kevin, and he can’t have it. He’s got maybe just enough time for some dirty talk and a blowjob, a scene that could be rationalized as a dream when Kev gets back to his own time.

He tightens his hand in Kev’s hair, holds him still enough to get his attention, and edges back to keep from distracting him. “Do you want that fantasy you had,  _ habibi _ ? Me blowing you in the shower?”

“No, you don’t have to-”

Kev’s flushed, looking at the tiled floor and breathing sharply. So painfully sweet - Sami wants an hour to tie him by his wrists and feet, wants the time and space and opportunity to let Kev fall into the scene and enjoy the submission.

“Kevin, look at me.” Kev looks up, hazy dark eyes blinking slow. “You trust me, right?”

“Yes.”

“You know me. You know I’d never hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Good. Good boy.”  _ Oh _ , Sami could nearly feel that shiver, and he smiles reassuringly. “Trust me. This is going to be really good. I’ll take care of you. If you want that blowjob, nod for me.”

Kev nods - short, sharp jerks of his head - and Sami rewards him by kissing him soft and slow. Just the laziest, simplest press of his lips, but Kev groans and shakes and whimpers for it. Sami presses him back across the locker room, into the shower, and breaks the kiss as gently as he can.

“I know you’re freaking out,” he says, and Kev jerks against him. Sami doesn’t let him move, pinning his wrists to the tile. Not as tightly as he knows his Kevin would want, but firm. Enough to keep his attention. “I know, babe, I do. I know you want to fight it out because you think you don’t deserve this. Or because you’re scared. Or maybe even because you just like fighting. I want you to trust me, okay? I can make this everything you’ve ever dreamed, because I know you - down to your blood, down to every dark thought you’ve ever had, I  _ know you. _ I can have you begging in two minutes and coming in five. If you tell me you want it.”

Wide, panicked eyes. Reflexive grip of his hands. Slight tremble of his lower lip. “Please,” he whispers, “Sami, please, I've never wanted anything more in my life.”

Sami presses his mouth to Kev’s cheek, his jaw. Slow, deliberate kiss to his mouth, and Sami murmurs “yes. Good boy, you said that so well. I know how hard it is. Now, all you have to do is two things - try to keep as quiet as possible, and enjoy.”

He strips down to his boxers, watching Kev watch him; heavy lidded eyes and that flush to his cheeks, teenaged-softness to the skin and the beard it took him a year to grow in right. Kev’s eyes go right to Sami’s chest, his belly, his biceps. Sami would ask what he’s staring at, but he knows - Kev’s seeing all the muscle and weight Sami has packed on his frame, the result of the conditioning at the PC. The Sami that Kev knows is still scrawny and all-limbs, and the kid bites his lip like he knows what it does to Sami. 

Sami goes for Kev’s shirt and shorts, tugging and loosening, and while there’s a soft, near-panicked moment where Kev flinches and pulls away, he calms down when Sami strokes his hair and whispers some of the things he knows Kev needs to hear.

“Ah-ah, beautiful boy. I love how you look. I love those shoulders, that smooth chest, I love your cute little ass, I’m gonna spend years staring at it, trust me. Shirt off, sweetheart, let me see you. C’mon, you can’t get your clothes wet, that’s it. That’s my good boy.”

Shivering, Kev unzips his shorts and pushes them down with his boxers. Sami wants to applaud, settles for getting on his knees and hitting the shower controls. The water is slightly cool, but he’s more concerned with wrapping his hands around Kev’s hips and pressing gentle, soft kisses to his thighs. Kev’s hard, almost painfully so if the dull redness to his cock is anything to go by, but Sami knows from experience that Kevin needs to be eased into direct stimulation. 

He spreads his fingers out, gets a solid grip even with the water drenching them, and looks up past Kev’s belly (which he’s sucking in, even as he’s trembling and whimpering, it hits Sami right under the ribs). Drags his mouth and beard over Kev’s soft upper thighs, and murmurs “breathe,  _ mon coeur _ , breathe for me and don’t scream.”

It’s all the warning he gives Kev before he licks at the water and pre-cum beading on Kev’s dick. If this were his Kevin, he’d tease him. Avoid touching Kevin’s dick for hours, or suck him hard and mean, or edge him enough times to make him cry. He knows his Kevin would love it, but this younger Kevin is a pile of nerves and body anxiety, and since Sami doesn’t have the time or privacy to tie him to a bed and calm him down, he can only make this everything Kev doesn’t know he needs.

He’s careful as he takes Kev into his mouth, doesn’t want to overload him in the bad way. The pitch of Kevin’s moans have always been his cue to give Kevin more or back off, and right now, Kev is right in that “yes please more please please more” zone. Sami keeps it easy and light, sucking a little on the head of Kev’s dick because he knows it’s Kevin’s favorite thing. Gets a gorgeous, shaky moan, and Sami strokes his fingers over the skin of Kev’s hips and ass. Lets Kev know he’ll be rewarded, but he won’t go anywhere.

Kev’s making small, helpless whimpers, his voice a ramble of “oh, oh, please need you please please don’t stop”, and his whine gets sharper as he bites his lip. Sami hums, sucking harder and a little faster, giving Kev more of his mouth to fuck. Kev’s desperate and messy with it, his hands scrabbling on the tile and pulling on Sami’s hair and pressing to his mouth as if it’ll stop all his begging.

A low groan of enjoyment from Sami is all it takes for Kev to completely unravel, whining high in his throat and coming in pulses. Sami lets the shower wash it away, rubbing Kev’s hip slow and reassuring, and knows he has to talk fast - his Kevin will be back soon.

“ _ Promets-moi que tu n’abandonneras pas,” _ he whispers, getting back to his feet.

“What?” Kev says, voice still shaking, eyes molten, letting Sami turn the water off and maneuver him to a dry corner of the shower. Lets Sami help him back into his clothes with only minimal stumbling. “Why?”

Kev has to listen to this, internalize it. Keep it as a touchstone. Sami knows this, and he has to tell him.

“You’ve been thinking about quitting since Japan, right?” Kev gapes at him, and Sami grips him by the base of his neck. “You think you’ll never get to be a star. You think you’ll never win another belt or make enough money to earn a living. You’re lonely and scared and you think everything will be easier if you give up.”

“Because it will. I’m not  _ him _ . Your Kevin. There are already so many differences I’m seeing in us, and it’s not just our ages.”

“Fucking promise me, Kevin. You’re too good. You’re better than me, and no one will ever see it if you quit now.”

“He’s pretty smart. Just tell him you'll listen or you’ll never hear the end of it,” a voice says from the door. It’s Kevin, his Kevin, and he’s not surprised at all to find them here. “Maybe you’re not me, but you won’t know if you don’t try.”

Confronted with his older self, Kev looks ready to pass out. He’s that startling shade of pale usually only preceded by blood loss, and he’s swaying a little bit. Sami tries to steady him, but he jerks away. Opens his mouth, seems to be about to say something, and then just - 

Disappears.

Sami lets out a breath, a little disappointed. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted more time with the younger Kevin - more of a chance for reassurance, to hold him and bring him back down and tell him it was going to be okay. He knows what Kev will be going back to; a Sami who was absolutely oblivious to Kev’s feelings.

“ _ Je suis desole _ ,” Kevin says quietly, startling Sami into looking over at him.

“The hell are you sorry about? I - honestly, I should be apologizing to you, I took advantage of you twice over-”

“ _ Tais-toi _ , you did not. Come here.” And this, Kevin’s arms, the wider shoulders and biceps and belly - more than that, his sheer calm and sweetness - this is what Sami has, worth more than anything. He could do anything, if he had Kevin. “You blew him, right? Because he was freaking out and reminding you of what we missed out on. I’d have done the same if it was you. Stop apologizing.”

Sami curls tighter into Kevin’s arms, lets Kevin stroke down his back and kiss his temple absently. He hopes that the other-them get their acts together more quickly than he and Kevin did. Missing out on this would really, really suck.

“Why did you apologize?” Sami asks, a few moments later.

Kevin sighs. “Because I remember being him, and not coming to you when shit got bad. You’d never have turned me away, but I was too afraid you would. I wish I’d trusted you.”

“You trust me now.”

“Yeah, but we’d have been a lot happier a lot sooner, and I-” Sami cuts him off, pushing him against the tile and kissing him. The taste of Kevin’s mouth is almost exactly the same, but Sami just  _ knows _ that this is his Kevin. He’s more aggressive and bites a lot more and drives Sami crazy with his hands on Sami’s ass. “- I should have-” Sami won’t let him give any more excuses, and tugs Kevin’s mouth back to his. Kevin groans in exasperation, breathing “you’re so bossy, you jerk.”

“You love it.”

“You know it.”

Sami has to smirk as Kevin goes for the tie to Sami’s sweatpants.

**Author's Note:**

> Ne t’en fais pas. Ca va aller - don’t worry, it’ll be okay  
> Tu sembles bizarre - you sound strange  
> Pas different, mais… je ne sais pas. - Not different, but… I don’t know.  
> Tabarnak, mon calinours - fuck, little bear  
> Cheri - darling  
> Habibi - my love  
> Mon coeur - my heart  
> Promets-moi que tu n’abandonneras pas - promise me you won’t give up  
> Je suis desole - I’m sorry  
> Tais-toi - shut up


End file.
